Speak No Evil
by A Study in Reichenbach Feels
Summary: Demon!lock. Takes place during The Sign of Three. John invites old family friends Sam and Dean Winchester to his wedding as groomsmen, along with Sherlock. As if the tension between Sherlock and the hunters wasn't enough in the first place, a demon has caught wind of the Winchesters and possesses Sherlock to get to them. Will the happy couple remain safe?
1. There's No Such Thing As Monsters

**This is my first crossover! Hope you enjoy it, hunters and Sherlockians alike!**

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><p>"Are you guys almost ready?" John Watson called out from the hallway by the men's dressing room. John hears shuffling from inside the door.<p>

"Yes, John. Don't worry, we'll be out in a minute," Sherlock replied. John huffed threats under his breath and his footsteps faded from outside the door. Sherlock glanced at the other two groomsmen John had chosen to stand for his wedding.

Clearing his throat, Dean Winchester tried to make conversation. "So, uh, how does John know you?"

"Flat mates," Sherlock quickly replied.

"Flat mates? Isn't John getting married?" Dean chuckled and got an elbow in his rib from Sam.

"We _were_ flat mates," Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"We understand," Sam said and glared at his brother.

Dean silently mocked Sam and pinned one of the flowers they were assigned to his chest. "You know," Dean murmured. "It'd be nice to get a suit that actually works for once."

"Stop complaining," Sam scolded.

"Maybe I'd stop complaining if we had better suits."

"Dean, if I have to tell you one more time-"

"OH, SHUT UP!" Sherlock yelled over the quarreling brothers. Sam and Dean stared at Sherlock, but surprisingly remained silent.

"Hey," Dean whispered to Sam after Sherlock had wandered into the bathroom to fix his tie.

"What?" Sam answered.

"I don't think John ever mentioned Sherlock before. Do you remember him?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe he's a new friend. People do that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Make friends."

"Shut up." Dean slugged Sam's arm.

* * *

><p>After the tension had died down, Dean addressed Sherlock on the matter. "So, um," he glanced at Sam, who nodded, reassuringly. "My brother and I were wondering how you got to know John."<p>

"Through a friend. We solve-used to solve crimes together," Sherlock said without a second glance at the irritatingly chatty groomsman.

"Oh, so you're like police butt buddies?" Dean smiled at his own sense of humor. "You've taken him for a ride downtown, I bet-"

"Dean-" Sam said with unease. Sherlock turned to face his fellow groomsmen. His eyes darted all about the brothers' towering figures as he gathered information from them.

"What?" Dean defended himself against Sam and then turned back towards Sherlock. "So you're police, then?"

"No, I'm a consulting detective. John helps me out on occasion," Sherlock spoke smoothly.

"I see," Dean nodded. "Well, my brother and I are police, too."

"Dean-"

Dean ignored Sam's protests. "Yeah, we work back in the States for-"

"No, you don't," Sherlock said plainly.

"Excuse me?" Dean asked, taken aback.

"You aren't police, it's obvious. There's no reason to lie to me. Don't you know who I am?"

"Not a clue," Dean said bitterly.

Sherlock stepped closer to Dean, their faces just inches from each other. "I guess I'll just show you who I am."

"Whoa, sorry pal, I don't swing that way."

"You're not police. Although the standard police suits are in disgraceful condition, yours are far worse, suggesting you got them from a thrift store or some such shop. However, you do reside in America, your accents nauseously prominent. Now, you two must care about John a lot to come to a wedding that is so far from your home. The question is why would you wear quite possibly the worst suits ever made to the wedding of a man who means so much to you?"

Sherlock paused, observing their faces longer. "Ah, you can't afford anything more top-notch. I see. However, going by the various stains and faint odor of sweat, I think it's safe to assume you two wear these pieces of junk quite often, never within regular reach of a drycleaners."

* * *

><p>"Hey, I don't know what you're playing at, but-" Dean interrupted.<p>

"In light of this," Sherlock continued. "I think it's safe to assume you wear them abroad, for some reason. Neither of you are employed, so-"

"Yes we are. Why would you say that?" Dean spewed.

"Well, you're not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed," Sherlock laughed, unwilling to explain that point further.

"Wha-"

"Moving on," Sherlock circled the brothers. "So, unemployed and wearing cheap suits all the time. This one," he pointed to Dean, "is quite the impulsive liar. Near professional, I'd say. To be that quick to tell a lie, he must have been telling lies since he was a boy. Maybe even taught to lie?" Sherlock paused again to confirm his progress in Dean's green eyes.

"Yes, taught to lie. Now what, I should wonder, do two brothers traveling the States do for a living, hm?"

"How'd you know we travel the States?" Sam asked curiously.

"I saw you pull up in your crap Impala-"

"Oh, hell no! She isn't crap, she's my _baby!_" Dean lunged at Sherlock, but Sam held him back by his collar.

"Oh, please," Sherlock laughed. "If you really held it in such high esteem, you'd keep it in better shape."

"My baby's in PERFECT shape, you son of a bitch!"

"Left tail light is out, oil needs a change, and," Sherlock leaned in. "I'd check those break lines if I were you." Dean glared at the detective and pushed Sam's hand off him.

"Anyway," Sherlock continued. "There's a lot of wear on the car for just going back and forth from employment which, we've established, you don't have. So what would two brothers be doing playing dress-up around the country? Con-men?"

Sam looked at Dean, then back at Sherlock, giving in. "It's part of the job."

"What job is that, then?" Sherlock inquired.

"None of your damn business!" Dean spat.

"We're hunters," Sam answered. Sherlock tilted his head, not understanding what interest a pair of traveling suits would have in shooting bucks. Sam noted Sherlock's expression and shook his head. "No, not that kind of hunter."

"Bounty hunters?"

"No…It's sort of hard to explain…" Sam stuttered.

"We hunt monsters," said Dean. "Ghosts, shape shifters, vampires, zombies, demons… You name it, we've ganked it."

"Dean, couldn't you have broken it a little more softly?" Sam sighed.

"You're the one who let the cat out of the bag, I was just laying the truth on him." Dean said defensively.

"You hunt…monsters? For a living?" Sherlock asked, restraining his laughter.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "More or less."

Sherlock let a few chuckles out. "I don't know if you missed out on this as a kids, but monsters aren't real."

"Yet here we are," Dean exasperated. "What we fight is real as hell, and I should know, I've been there."

"Metaphorically."

"No. I've literally been to hell and back," Dean ignored Sherlock's questioning look. "Look it doesn't matter what you think of us. We do what we do no matter what you choose to believe. No matter what anyone chooses to believe. In fact, Sam and I's assurance that monsters are real have probably saved ten times the lives you've saved with your little microscope. John wouldn't even be here today if it wasn't for us."

Sherlock took a step back. "Don't tell me John's in on all this nonsense, too."

"'Nonsense' is what stubborn douchebags use as a word for something they can't explain," Dean fumed. "So, Mr. Smarty-pants, how about you take your speculations and shove them right back up your-"

"Dean." Sam stopped his brother. "What he means to say..."

"I mean to say," Dean jumped back in. "That no matter how smart you think you art, you don't know everything. Maybe, just maybe, there are things other people know more about than you do. And some day, that might just save your life."

Sherlock was stunned, but replied, "Highly unlikely."

Dean was about to go off on another speech, but Sam pulled him by the arm towards the door and shoved him out. "Come on, the wedding's going to start soon." Sam glanced back and mouthed '_Sorry_' to the detective.

* * *

><p>Sherlock wandered to the mirror and gave his hair a rustle. He straightened his tie and took a deep breath. How did John have such idiotic friends?<p>

_I'll have to ask how they met later, _Sherlock noted mentally. _Although, I do suppose it'd be natural for John to have psychotic friends. He shared a flat with me, after all. But monsters? Does John seriously believe in all of this rubbish? _

Sherlock sighed. _It's simply impossible. _

At the moment, something caught his eye. In the corner of the mirror, a black smoke gathered behind him. Sherlock whipped around and stared at the phenomenon, astounded. He opened his mouth to call for the hunters, but as he did so, the inky smoke dived into his throat. Sherlock's eyes widened and his mind became blurry as he lost control of his own body.


	2. Like Hell

"What a beautiful bride! John's a lucky man," John's friend complimented Mary as he shook her hand. Most of the guests were already inside the reception hall nabbing up plates of food.

"Thank you so much," Mary replied, smiling. John shuffled the rest of the people through without much conversation. "What's the hurry, John?" Mary asked her husband.

"I want to eat, too," John whispered to his new wife. Mary laughed and led the way into their reception.

* * *

><p>"Hey, check it out," Dean whispered to Sam. Sam followed Dean's eye line only to rest on the beautiful brunette bridesmaid.<p>

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, no. This is John's wedding."

"So?"

"We owe him."

"How do we owe him? I thought we canceled that debt."

Sam sighed. "Can't you just be respectful for once?"

Dean glared at him. "For once? I am…" Sam gave Dean a sarcastic glare. "…Respectful…" Dean mumbled as he trudged away from his brother.

"Don't you dare," Sam called after him.

Dean mocked Sam's words on his face and approached the dessert table. He let out a relieved laugh.

"Pie!" Dean felt his mouth water as he grabbed a plate and a slice of each pie; lemon meringue, apple, and cherry.

Dean turned to grab a fork when he saw the brunette he had been eyeing up earlier reaching for the forks, her eyes on the pie. Dean raced to greet this opportunity and quickly put his hand down on the forks, 'accidentally' grabbing her hand.

"Oops, I'm sorry," Dean apologized with a smile. "I wasn't paying attention."

"It's fine," the brunette smiled back and continued getting a piece of apple pie.

Dean cleared his throat. "So are you a friend of Mary's?"

"Yes," she answered.

"She's a sweet girl. John's a lucky guy. I'm Dean," he held out his hand to shake hers.

"Janine," she replied, and shook his hand.

"Whoa," Dean exclaimed. Janine looked curiously at him. Dean hid the pain in his hand with a light smile. "Strong grip."

Janine chuckled and motioned towards the table they were seated at. "Shall we?"

"Of course," Dean extended his hand and stepped back to let her go first. As they walked, he took the opportunity to check out her lower curves.

* * *

><p>"Dean!" Sam came up from behind and nudged Dean. "Come on, man."<p>

"What?" Dean defended. "I'm being respectful! Besides, a British girl? I've never charmed a Brit before. Don't be mad that I beat you to her."

Sam sighed. "Fine! Just don't…do it here."

"Sam. Gross," Dean tilted his head. "Although...I've always wondered-"

"No," Sam interrupted. "Just don't." Sam pushed Dean to the head table.

"That's a lot of pie to start off with," Janine mentioned to Dean, glancing at his plate. "Aren't you going to have some lunch first?"

"Well, life's short," Dean shrugged. "Might as well skip to the good parts." Dean winked at Janine with a spark in his eyes. She smiled and blushed, looking away from him. "Besides," he continued. "You grabbed the pie first, too."

Janine grinned slowly. "I guess you're right."

Dean chuckled and lifted his glass of wine. "To the good parts of life?"

Janine raised an eyebrow, questioning Dean's cheesy toast, but agreed to raise her glass as well. "To the good parts of life." They bumped drinks and sipped at the white wine.

* * *

><p>Sherlock loudly cleared his throat from behind Dean. "You're in my spot." Dean was taken off guard and spilled the wine he was drinking from the fright.<p>

"Damn it!" Dean cursed. Janine tried her best to contain her laughter, but a few snickers escaped her mouth. Dean wiped what he could from his shirt and tie, then stood to face the cause of his embarrassment. "What the _hell_, Sherlock?"

"Give the man a prize," Sherlock smirked and his eyes blinked to an inky black. Dean's expression melted from anger to fear. Sherlock's eyes returned to their normal ocean blue as quickly as they had been blotted out.

"You've got to be kidding me," Dean sighed and tapped Sam's shoulder without removing his eyes from Sherlock.

"Nope!" Sherlock shrugged dramatically. "Surprise!"

Sam joined Dean's side. "What is it?"

Dean raised his pointer finger to his lips. "We've got company," he said quietly and motioned at Sherlock.

"I _am _right here, you know," said the demon, snidely.

Sam understood and swallowed hard. "How long have you been in him?"

"The whole dreadful wedding," Sherlock groaned. "Honestly, it was hell. Maybe even worse, and that's saying a lot. You should know, right Dean?"

"Wait," Dean glared at the demon's meat suit and changed the subject. "You stood through the entire wedding and blended in?"

Sherlock grinned. "It normally wouldn't have been so easy. Luckily, it wasn't just me with a distain for social events." Sam slowly touched his fingertips to the demon blade under his jacket.

"So you acted how Sherlock normally acts," Dean flashed a sarcastic smile. "But why wait? Why haven't you drawn attention to yourself? Aren't demons supposed to be all 'Look at me, I'm a powerful demon'?"

"This might be a difficult concept for you to grasp, but I don't actually like to make messes everywhere I go. It's a lot of work and I get a lot of heat from downstairs for it. So, if I can, I do my work quickly and quietly. If it isn't too much to ask, your cooperation would be greatly appreciated."

"Why are you here?" Dean asked the demon. "What do you want?"

"Why am I here?" Sherlock laughed contemptuously. "The Winchesters are here! You two aren't just expensive hookers, you two have a price on your heads. I deliver the Winchester brothers alive and I'm a hero. No more shitty commissions and crossroad deals. I'd be right up there with the big boys."

"Typical selfish demon," said Dean.

"Selfish?" Sherlock seemed genuinely offended. "If I were selfish, I'd be killing your friends one by one until you agreed to come with me. I'm giving you a chance for this to end peacefully, for once. Either you come with me quietly or…well let's stay optimistic and pretend I don't have an 'or'."

"We aren't going anywhere." Sam drew the demon blade and thrust it towards Sherlock's stomach. The demon caught Sam's wrist before the knife made its mark.

"Really, Sam? Trying to act like you _so_ weren't reaching for a weapon? You blew it," Sherlock chuckled menacingly. "And I think we both know I'm a better actor than you."

Sherlock winked at the Winchesters and proceeded to shriek at the top of his lungs. The attention of the entire room shifted towards the front where Sherlock was stumbling backwards, grasping John for stability.

"What on Earth..? Sherlock? What's wrong?" John asked, apprehensively.

"The Americans…!" Sherlock gasped, pointing at the knife still in Sam's hand. "They tried to stab me!"

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><p><strong>Sherlock isn't even in control and he's still a manipulative little shit. Find out what happens next in the next chapter! Like 5 years from now! (sarcasm, referring to how long it was since i updated.)<strong>

**Shout out to all the angry messages I've gotten telling me to update this fic. **


	3. Secrets

**I-I'm alive everyone! And I wrote a long chapter for you. (2k is long for me, okay?)**

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><p>Greg Lestrade leaped onto the American wielding the knife. For a man of such small stature, Lestrade handled himself well against Sam. He pinned Sam's shoulders long enough to swing the cuffs on.<p>

"You're making a mistake!" Sam insisted. "I'm not the enemy!"

"In all honesty, I'd love to agree with you," said Lestrade. "But you are the one holding the knife."

"Look, he wasn't going to do anything, officer," Dean tried to defend his brother.

"That's Detective Inspector to you, boy," Lestrade snapped.

"The tall one isn't the only one guilty, Greg!" Sherlock cried, still fanning himself in a fit of overreacting. Lestrade raised an eyebrow at the drama queen. Sherlock _never_ remembered his name.

"Oh?" he asked.

"The stubby one told him to do it!" Sherlock said with horror.

Dean lunged at the meat suit. "What did you call me?!"

Lestrade tackled Dean, as well, the crowd helping to keep the brothers rallied. "So I guess violence runs in the family?"

"Shut up!" said Dean.

* * *

><p>"This is your fault, you know," Sam said bitterly.<p>

"My fault? I'm pretty sure any demon possessing _anyone_ is on the demon, not me," Dean replied.

"Every hunter knows that demons are drawn to vessels with strong emotional outputs, especially when they have little control over them."

"Yeah, whatever."

"I'm just saying you pushed him. You practically attacked the basis of his beliefs and-"

"I get it, okay?!"

The Winchester brothers had been tied up in the bathroom as they waited for Scotland Yard to arrive.

"The real issue here is how are we going to get out of this mess? When they see we're from America and contact them, we will be sent into the FBI's custody…"

Sam cringed. "Yeah, I'd rather not go through that again."

Dean nodded and looked around the room for any sign of an escape. "But everyone thinks that you…Hey, what's that?"

* * *

><p>"Are we having fun yet?" Sherlock walked into the bathroom to have some "closure" with the people who tried to kill him, as everyone at the wedding thought. "See what happens when you resist me? Things get messy with almost no effort on my part. You shouldn't have put up a fight." The demon laughed at the captive's faces. "No need to be so hateful."<p>

"Yeah, coming from a demon," Sam flashed the inherited sarcastic smile. Sherlock's grin faded and he lunged into Sam's face.

"Ha." Sherlock tapped Sam's nose. "Fear," he chuckled.

"We aren't afraid of a bottom-feeding demon like you," said Dean.

"No?" Sherlock humored him. "Clenched jaw, sweat beads on brow, an increase in blood pressure and breathing, and swallowing saliva. All signs of fear, which happens to be my favorite."

"Favorite what?" Sam asked. Without answering, the demon wiped his fingers along Sam's forehead and licked the sweat off them.

"Dude," Dean contorted his face. "Gross."

"Well," John Watson cleared his throat loudly as he shut the door behind him. "What's going on here?" The demon flashed his black eyes back to Sherlock's sky ones and swung to face the groom.

"John! How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough…" John smiled. "Long enough to know you have a thing for Sam."

"Uh…I," the demon stuttered, glad that John hadn't seen anything.

"However sick and twisted it is to have a thing for someone who tried to kill you," John continued, frowning.

The demon's fake embarrassed smile faded. What did this worm know? He seemed suspicious of Sherlock's behavior, but what did he have to fear? John couldn't possibly believe in the supernatural. If he did, he hadn't told this vessel about anything he knew. So it seemed unlikely that John could know he was a demon possessing Sherlock Holmes, considering his vessel's records ranked John as a high priority. If John meant a lot to Sherlock, it was probably true the other way around, seeing how humans are. He would have informed Sherlock of the supernatural before now if they were so close, right?

"I'm sorry this had to happen on your wedding day, John," frowned the demon. "You should really get back to the party, right?"

"I don't mind."

"Mary must be very upset. You should get everyone to the dining area and continue with the festivities."

"I don't think-"

"It's decided then," Sherlock clapped his hands together. "You go about your wedding celebrations and I'll take these two to the Yard myself. I always was more comfortable at work, you know tha-"

* * *

><p>In a flash, John Watson whipped out his flask and threw the contents onto Sherlock's face. The demon screamed and put his hands over the burns, steam fuming from in-between his fingers. John gave the demon a hard shove and he stumbled backwards into one of the stalls.<p>

The demon laughed as his eyes flicked black, "Hehehe…You'll pay for that, you bloody imbecile." He plunged towards the door of the stall, only to be knocked back as if hitting an invisible brick wall.

"Will I?" John sneered. He pointed towards the ceiling above Sherlock's head, which had a thick devil's trap drawn on the ceiling with lipstick.

"Nice," Dean grinned. "You are a genius."

John untied the Winchesters. "I'm not the one used to hearing that," he said, glancing at his friend's hijacked body.

"So, what are we going to do with him?" Sam asked.

"Haha! It doesn't matter, does it?" the demon taunted. "I've already called them. They're coming!"

"Who's coming?" John asked.

"My brothers and sisters! Ha ha!"

"Don't listen to him, he's lying." Dean warned.

"Am I?" Sherlock giggled.

"Sam? Dean? What does it mean? More are coming?" John asked in a fluster.

"It's lying, John! Demons lie," Dean reassured him. "All they want is chaos."

John nodded and his sweat dripped from his forehead to the cold tile floor. He held out his hand. "Give me the blade, Sam."

"What? No! That will kill Sherlock!" Sam refused.

"I KNOW!" John yelled. He took a deep breath. "I know…but what other way is there to kill this bastard?"

"There isn't one! We either use the demon blade or exorcise him."

"Oh, I'd love a run through the park right about now!" Sherlock mocked from his trap.

"_Exorcism_, not exercise," Dean emphasized, glaring at Sherlock for a moment. "Won't kill the demon, but he'll be sent back to hell where he belongs."

"I know what an exorcism is," John defended himself. "I simply don't think that any demon who infiltrates _my_ wedding and possesses _my _best man should not live to tell the tale."

"Hey, I get where you're coming from," Dean agreed. "I'd want the same thing. But that would mean giving Sherlock up. For me, that wouldn't be very difficult. But you seem to have a strong connection with him."

John sighed. "It seems that we only have one option now."

"What's our only option?" a voice interrupted. Everyone looked at the woman who had snuck in with the same stealth of her husband.

* * *

><p>"Mary," John greeted his new wife with a kiss. "Did you do everything I asked?"<p>

"Everything's in order," Mary smiled.

"That's my girl," John kissed her again, not stopping this time.

"Alright, alright. Save it for the honeymoon, lovebirds," said Dean.

"What do you mean by 'do everything you asked'?" Sam inquired. "What are you planning?"

Mary walked over to Sherlock, stuck in the devil's trap she had drawn on the ceiling. "Well," she cooed. "We're planning to get rid of this devil, of course." She turned back towards the hunters. "And I meant the demon, not Sherlock." Dean laughed loudly.

"Dean," Sam hit his back.

"What? That was funny."

"I've had everyone return to the dance floor under the impression that you two have already been taken away," Mary stated. "They won't hear anything that happens in here and it will be clear for you two to sneak out quickly after we're done," She added sass to her tone. "No demon is going to ruin my wedding day."

"Well, I'll be damned!" Dean exclaimed.

"Yes, you will!" Sherlock taunted yet again.

"You sure have married a capable woman, John," Dean finished, ignoring the snickering demon.

"I've explained everything to Lestrade. He was hesitant to listen to me at first, but he has an open heart and mind. Plus it is my wedding day after all. Perhaps when Sherlock confirms it all he will believe me. I've also scraped these up." Mary handed the Winchesters fake British I.D.'s with their pictures and fake names on them. "Those should get you on the first flight out of London."

Sam gawked. "How-"

Mary held her hand up. "I have friends in low places. Plus I called in a favor."

Dean whistled. "Capable _and_ mysterious."

"How do you know about all this stuff in the first place?" Sam asked.

"Why wouldn't I share this with my wife? She's family, she deserves to know," John replied.

"Yeah…" Sam mumbled and shot a glance at his brother. "There shouldn't be any secrets with family, huh?"

"Plus, she's better at hunting than me, anyways," John added.

Mary shook her head. "Oh please, dear, you're the marksman of the century and we all know it."

"Well, let's get to it then," said Dean, getting back to the task at hand.

"Wait," Sam stopped him. "There's a high possibility Sherlock won't survive this. Most exorcisms take the vessel along with the demon."

"Sherlock his strong," John said quietly. "I have to believe he'll pull through."

Mary gently put her hand on her husband's shoulder. "He'll be okay, John," she encouraged. John put his hand over hers and took a deep breath.

"Let's do it," he said. They all circled around the entrapped demon writhing in Sherlock Holmes' skin.

"You're all going to pay for this when I come back!"

"Yeah, that's if you pass the Demon Exam, newbie," Dean sneered.

John stood close to his best man. "Listen, Sherlock,"

The demon interrupted him. "Hm, he's not available at the moment, can I take a message?"

"Sherlock if you can hear me," John continued. "I just-if this all goes wrong and you end up-" his voice cracked. "I just want you to know that I'm sorry for not telling you sooner about everything I do. I wanted to, but I knew you wouldn't believe me-"

"He thinks you're a terrible person for hiding this from him," spat the demon. "He said he'd rather die than survive only to live with you."

"I want you, _Sherlock Holmes_, to know that…you are the best friend I ever had or will have." John Watson sniffed and stepped back to join the others, a single tear crawling down his face.

"Aw, how sweet," cackled the demon. "Too bad he-"

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…" the exorcism began, all four reciting it in unison. Sherlock screamed and spat curses before finally…

"Audi nos!" the group finished. The inky smoke rocketed from Sherlock's belly like vomit and poured out his mouth. Sherlock's eyes opened in shock and he gasped for air. John ran to catch his best friend's weak, collapsing body.

"Is he okay?" Same asked desperately.

"You both need to leave now, there's no time," Mary said sternly.

"But-"

"Lestrade's covering for you, go now! We'll update you on a secure line when it is safe."

"But what if more come? We have to help-"

"We can handle ourselves. Remember it was us who saved you, not the other way around."

"Come on, Sam. Let's go!" Dean dragged his brother out the door.

* * *

><p>"Sherlock? Sherlock! If you bloody leave me, I swear to god-"<p>

Sherlock groaned, his face betraying the pain he was in. "John…?"

"Yes! Yes, it's me. I'm here," John cried.

"I-" Sherlock muttered.

John shook his head. "No, don't speak, you have to rest. I'm going to patch you up, so just hold tight."

"I-I'm your- b-best friend?" he asked with a glaze of happiness in his eyes before drifting into unconsciousness.

* * *

><p><strong>Special shout-out to guest user DianaThen for her many reviews and support of this story! (and threats).<strong>

**Thank you for being patient (not really. XD thank you for the lovely messages telling me to update ;n;)**

**Don't worry! All your questions will be explained in the next and FINAL chapter of my first crossover. c:**

**Tell me what you think, feedback = PROGRESS!**


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